


Norma Jean

by poorasdirt



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: BAMF Skull (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of strippers, One Shot, Skull is So Done, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:22:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23871553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poorasdirt/pseuds/poorasdirt
Summary: After the curse, Skull finds some relief in a rather unexpected place. It's too bad that Reborn forced him into running the Vongola's smuggling racket. If he had it his way, Skull would much rather be under the glare of lights putting on a performance for an audience. Luckily he might just get his wish if Reborn would just leave him alone.
Relationships: Reborn & Skull (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 336





	Norma Jean

**Author's Note:**

> Instead of sleeping, I decided to write a 5,000ish long one shot with this prompt:
> 
> Skull surprising Reborn with an extravagant gift, to which Reborn is delighted, but asks how they afforded it. Skull stutters a bit, unsure how to confess that they earn extra money working on the side as a stripper.
> 
> So here it is. It did go a few hundred words over my limit and I'm sorry. I'll do better next time, maybe, if there is a next time. As always I don't own the characters, they belong to Akira Amano.
> 
> Enjoy!

Growing up on the poorer side of Chicago taught Skull a lot of things as a child. Winters were cold, handouts were sparse pride sapping necessities, and no one really cared where someone came from if they could get their name up in lights. Skull remembered being a kid watching his mother working backstage for some comedy clubs, doing makeup, and prepping wardrobes.

His mother wanted to be an actress when she was younger. Had dreamed of being the next Marilyn Monroe, even. But she met Skull’s deadbeat father who walked out on them when Skull was only two.

His mother had instilled in Skull a passion for seeing his names up in lights. Had dressed him up and taught him all he knew about acting and performing. She hadn’t fully approved of his obsession with Houdini, but the man was **_known_**.

She had worked hard between waiting on tables in the early morning and early afternoon to bustling behind stage from the late afternoon into the evening. All to buy Skull his first bike, to send him to acting and dance classes. To make sure his medical bills were paid for when he inevitably went crashing back to earth in stunts gone wrong.

He missed that strong, determined, yet weathered and loving woman. He hadn’t even minded when she stole hundreds from him while being his first manager. He was going to give her all that money, anyway, had wanted to spoil her rotten if he could.

It was also the reason why he made sure to fake his death in a stunt gone wrong when he realized he was being pulled into the mafia. The insurance payout was enough that he knew his dear old mom had spent the rest of her life comfortably. It still saddened him that he had to leave her like he did, but her obituary told him she had finished life off with nary a worry.

Maybe it was the nostalgia of his life once gone. Maybe it was just the thirst for being in the spotlights. Whatever it was that drove him, he found himself yearning for the stage, any stage.

He figured that was why, after the curse was broken and he once again looked old enough, Skull had set his sights on pursuing some sort of side job in entertainment. He couldn’t leave the mafia, not really. But a little weekend gig or open mic wouldn’t hurt.

Not like trying to restart a stunt career in a more safety-conscious world. He still felt rather cheated that all his hard work into becoming a stunt legend had been taken from him. Even now, venues weren’t keen on hosting his performances in case it gave the _children_ harmful ideas.

He wondered if he should run off and join a circus. He’d done so once before. It was a boost to his stunt career after all. Maybe get back into acrobatics or something.

But no.

Instead, he found a nice little out of the way place in St. Louis to shack up. He had ended up in the city as he was doing a grand tour around the world, living off some of the money he saved up from working with the Carcassa. With Reborn practically forcing him into the Vongola after finding out the Carcassa kicked him out, Skull wanted a few weeks to himself.

So, he went through his old stomping grounds. Followed one of his old touring circuits around the States, just for old time sake. He started in New York, went down to Tampa, spent a few wild nights in New Orleans, made bank in Vegas, even spent time going from L.A. to Seattle.

Finally, he made it back home to Chicago. He stopped and looked at some of the old theatre and comedy clubs that weren’t around anymore. Even spent a few nights in the ones still open.

Since he still had some time to kill, he had gone a bit south. That’s how he ended up in St. Louis. He saw a few baseball games, enjoyed a few breweries, and just relaxed.

Then he found Norma Jean’s.

Now, almost a year later, he was back for the third time. He smirked as he got dressed backstage in the skimpy leather outfit of his latest number. He made sure his makeup brought out his natural coloring and the pale dye kept his hair a vibrant teal.

He looked next to nothing like Skull de Mort. Sure, his facial structure was the same, but gone were the recognizable piercings and the protective stunt suit. Instead, there was a sharp, slim yet toned young man.

The few scars he did have were well concealed with his use of FX makeup. With a pair of contacts to turn his purple eyes vibrant green, no one would peg Johnny as Skull. Giving himself another once over, he turned when the door opened to one of the other strippers.

“Your set’s up in five,” Carlos called before moving on.

Skull turned back to his mirror one last time and smirked.

Skull’s day job of managing the Vongola’s smuggling business was boring and didn’t pay well. Thanks to poor management before Skull was placed in charge it wasn’t even that great. But Skull was bored, desperate, and more tenacious than most gave him credit for.

It was still boring and didn’t pay well. But now there was a better filing system and even the authorities that were snooping around couldn’t find an uncrossed T or period out of place. It gave a major boost to resupplying many of the other divisions from weapons for the Varia to machined parts to R&D.

Skull liked to point out it was a thankless job.

But it was also a job that kept him away from his main antagonist, Reborn. The two former Arcobaleno had always had an odd relationship. From Reborn taking it upon himself to beat Skull into the Mafia to Skull finding every way, he could think of to rebel against his “leader”.

Even now, Reborn had a tendency to drop by to mess up Skull’s day. The hitman would reorganize Skull’s carefully planned system because it didn’t suit the Sun’s tastes. Skull would make snide remarks about Bianchi, who was still going on about Reborn being her true love.

It was almost, sad to say, a routine.

And like most routines, it also had a depressingly set schedule.

So, one early Thursday morning, three weeks after Skull came back from another vacation, Reborn sauntered in. Skull didn’t look up from the financial report he was reading about transportation costs for a new shipment of supplies the Varia ordered. He just waited for Reborn to take his customary spot in the far more comfortable guest chair in Skull’s dinky little office.

But the usual greeting of ‘Lackey’ didn’t fill the air.

Instead, Skull looked up to find Reborn pressed against his door, ear to the thin wood.

“Need some help?” Skull asked lowering the financial report he was holding.

“Quiet Lackey.” Reborn snapped glancing over with narrowed eyes.

Skull blinked but didn’t say a word. Instead, he tilted his head and eyed the hitman curiously. The Sun’s usually impeccable suit was wrinkled and there was a mildly harried look to Reborn’s sharp dark eyes.

He was also missing his infamous fedora.

Skull frowned.

He then stood up, walked the four strides to the door, and gently pushed Reborn away. He calmly opened the door, the financial report still in hand, and slipped out. He turned and pulled out his keys, taking the time to lock both the knob and the deadbolt.

“Skull-san!” A familiar voice called down the hall.

Skull blinked and looked up from locking up his office. Bianchi was making her way towards him while wearing a rather nice crimson dress with a plunging neckline and a slit almost up to her hip. She had her hair pulled up in a fancy updo with a few strategically placed curls framing her face and some light sultry makeup.

“Hey, Bianchi-chan.” Skull greeted moving away from his door while tucking his keys into his pocket. “What brings you my way? No one from the main family visits unless it’s an emergency.”

“Or you’re my beloved Reborn.” She cooed making Skull snort.

“Isn’t he still on some job in Florence?” Skull asked getting a laugh from her.

“Oh, he came back early this morning. I was going to get him so we can celebrate our anniversary. He missed it last week.” She said with a smile. “Have you seen him?”

“No?” Skull said blinking at her. “Please tell me he’s not really back. I still haven’t fixed the mess he made of my files the last time he dropped by.”

“Oh, he’s back.” She said with a catlike grin. “I was there to greet him when he came in. However, he said Tsuna really needed the report he had, so we had to part earlier than I expected. I did go wait for him outside Tsuna’s office, but we must have just missed each other. Since he usually comes to meet with you around this time, I was hoping he came here out of habit.”

“Nah,” Skull said looking up and down the halls with noticeable caution. “I haven’t seen Reborn-senpai. Not sure where he slunk off to, and I really don’t want to know either. But if I see him, I’ll let him know you’re looking for him. I got to go deal with this though.”

Skull held up his thankfully closed folder so she wouldn’t be able to tell exactly what he was holding.

“It’s kind of urgent if I don’t want the Varia breathing down my neck.” He added with a sheepish and noticeably nervous smile.

“Oh.” She blinked at him. “If you haven’t seen him, he must have had something else to do. But thank you for offering to tell him I’m looking for him.”

He gave her a smile and turned to head down the hall. He didn’t mind if she tried to break into his office. Verde had been kind enough to give him some pretty nifty hardware when he bemoaned having to replace the lock.

It might look old fashion, but there was a special strip of electronic coding on the sides of his key. Someone could try to pick the lock, but without the electronics, the tumbler wouldn’t budge. So, he confidently went to pretend to meet up with some of his current minions about finances.

Instead, he ended up at the little out of the way kitchenette assigned to his minions. He inspected some complimentary doughnuts, deeming them safe, and even brewed up some coffee. As an afterthought, he also snagged a Styrofoam cup and whipped together an espresso before heading back to his office.

As he unlocked the door, he was happy to note that Bianchi wasn’t lurking about. Instead, he braced himself and slipped through the now unlocked doorway. He winced when he saw his guest was still there, leaning back in his guest chair with his feet casually propped up against his desk.

Skull shut the door and locked it. He slipped around the small space, not getting too close. But still managed to hold out the espresso for Reborn to take.

He felt the heavy weight of those dark eyes on him, even as the hitman accepted the Styrofoam cup.

“Not sure when she’ll be back around, but if she asks, I’m letting you know she’s looking for you.” He said simply as he moved to sit back down at his desk.

Reborn didn’t say anything but continued to stare.

It took all of Skull’s previous training as an actor to not fidget. He knew how to conduct himself on a stage, this was no different. Just because the last time they met ended…poorly.

Skull eyed the paperwork he had left out on his desk. It was oddly still in the same organized disarray as he last saw it. Absently Skull felt himself frown without his express permission to do so.

It seemed Reborn hadn’t touched anything. Well. Outside of lounging in the guest chair that was and putting his shoes precariously close to Skull’s outbox. For a moment Skull narrowed his eyes at the polished leather shoes, only to watch them disappear once more towards the ground.

Skull schooled his features, even as he felt the urge to tense. Reborn hadn’t said anything, wasn’t doing anything. If it wasn’t for the familiar feel of the man’s Sun Flames, Skull was almost convinced he found himself in a room with an imposter.

Slowly Skull turned to eye the hitman. Nope, those were Reborn’s Flames, Skull was sure of it. Since his instincts hadn’t ever lead Skull wrong before, the former stuntman was sure this was Reborn.

Yet all the Sun did upon Skull turning his attention to him, was casually fidget with the cup in his hand. It wasn’t an obvious sort of fidget either. Reborn just gently twirled the Styrofoam between his cupped hands and eyed Skull with an unreadable look.

The urge to bare his teeth, jump over the desk, and attack hit Skull hard. He felt his jaw clench and his hardened in a glare before he could fully push the urge down. The sudden spike of adrenaline-induced anger that clenched his chest was almost unexpected.

Almost.

Skull easily recalled the last time they spoke. It was in this very office before Skull went on vacation and Reborn went on a series of jobs. Skull couldn’t say what they had ended up arguing about exactly, but he could easily recall how it had escalated.

Reborn had made some snide comment about Skull’s mother. Skull couldn’t remember the exact words, but it had set the Cloud off faster than anything else ever had in a while. Skull blanked for only a second and that was long enough for him to find himself pinning Reborn down in the small bit of floor space left in the office.

Reborn had been looking up at him with large wild eyes, fedora laying only a few inches away. Skull had found himself inches away from Reborn’s usually smug face, growling lowly in his rage. Sun Flames clashed with Cloud as Skull forced his will to smother Reborn into submission.

“ ** _NEVER_** speak of my mother like that again.” He had snarled. “You don’t know her, and if you did. I would _rip out_ your throat before you could get within a thousand yards.”

He had tightened his hand around the hitman’s throat, darkly enjoying feeling the Sun’s struggles increase as the man’s airway was closed off. Skull had managed to pin one of Reborn’s arms down with a knee and had the other wrist in his other hand, easily forcing the gun away from himself.

Reborn might be strong. But Skull could physically hold him down if he were so inclined, even without enhancing his strength with his Flames. It came from years of strength training to help with his stunts and acrobatics.

Skull had choked Reborn until he could feel the Sun’s pulse slow and see the slightly dazed look in those dark eyes. He knew from experience Reborn had been on the edge of unconsciousness. Only then, as Reborn’s struggling had weakened, Skull had swiftly stood while dragging Reborn with him.

Skull had taken some satisfaction in tossing the hitman out of his office. He had watched as Reborn gagged and shook in a heap in the hall. Then with a final snarl, Skull had slammed the door shut and locked it.

Skull had patiently waited, carefully sensing the Flames around him. Only when he was sure Reborn had slunk off to wherever the hitman went when not bugging Skull, did the former stuntman move. Skull remembered still being in a foul mood, so went straight for Tsuna’s office.

Where he could feel the weaker Cloud in the area.

Hibari had only managed to brace himself before Skull punched the kid out of a convenient window. Skull had ignored Tsuna’s yelp of alarm, following Hibari out the window with a fluid leap. The two Clouds eventually stopped beating the crap out of each other as the sun began setting and two gardens had been torn to pieces.

Hibari had to go to medical. Skull’s injuries were laughably insignificant. And Tsuna hesitantly offered to pay for a vacation to wherever Skull wanted to go.

Skull had gruffly accepted the vacation while tossing Reborn’s fedora at Tsuna in obvious disgust.

Now, the instigator of their last encounter sat oddly silent across from Skull. Some of that rage sparked along Skull’s nerves, begging to be unleashed upon his _senpai_. But Skull forced an eerie calm to still his rolling emotions.

The same calm that he forced himself to feel just before he did one of his more life-threatening stunts.

Skull watched as Reborn took a breath and licked his lips.

“Yuni and my no-good student want me to apologize,” Reborn said simply and Skull could almost see the slight strain written on the Sun’s face.

Skull scuffed. “Fucking don’t. We both know you wouldn’t really mean it.”

Reborn’s expression shifted from strained reluctance to insulted affront comically fast.

“Lackey.” Reborn began in a more familiar dark tone Skull was used to.

Skull didn’t listen to what Reborn was about to say, however. Instead, he opened the large lower drawer to his right. Absently he pulled out an old but well cared for revolver and tossed it at the hitman.

The gun was empty, more of a showpiece than anything. It wasn’t even that special since it didn’t have anything too notable about it. However, Skull watched as Reborn caught the gun and eyed it for a moment.

The stuntman could easily see when Reborn noted the partially filed off serial number on the sidearm. The hitman’s eyes noticeably widened as Reborn ran a finger across the metal groves. Slowly Reborn looked up at Skull with the most stunned look the stuntman had ever seen on the hitman’s face.

Skull shrugged a little uncomfortably.

“For going a bit overboard, the last time,” Skull explained away in a half mumble. “I shouldn’t have let my rage get the better of me.”

Reborn continued to stare at Skull for a long minute before frowning.

“How did you get this?” Reborn asked clutching the gun close.

“Believe it or not, there’s a big market for criminal evidence. Apparently, there are people out there that are collectors of stuff like that. A year and a half ago, that and some other things were up for auction since the case was closed decades ago.” Skull answered easily while motioning to the gun. “I picked it up and figured it would be a good get out jail free card for a rainy day.”

Reborn’s frown deepened a little more before he sat up and cleared his throat.

“I see,” Reborn said standing. “I should be going.”

Skull watched with a raised eyebrow as Reborn retreated from the room, revolver clutched in his hand. The Cloud was surprised it got such a reaction and wondered what Reborn would have done if Skull had tossed the locket at him. Skull wasn’t entirely too sure all the details on how Reborn was connected to the crime in question, but the stuntman did remember Reborn mentioning it as something important once.

Shrugging, Skull turned back to his work. They got through the encounter without bloodshed and without stomping on each other’s pride. So, Skull was going to count that as a win and leave it at that.

Johnny was one of the better dancers at Norma Jean’s. He wasn’t a regular, but he attracted quite the crowd when he was in town. No one at the club knew what Johnny did on the regular, but figured it had something to do with accounting.

But the man could dance.

Johnny was like a cat, all grace and balance. He strutted across the stage with easy confidence, playing to the panting crowds. Sometimes it even seemed like he floated from one spot to another without once touching the ground.

The manager, Jules, liked him because when he was in town, Johnny made bank. The other guys liked him as well simply because he didn’t cause a fuss and stayed out of other people’s business. Most thought he only showed up to dance at Norma Jean’s to get away from whatever dreadful cubical job he was subjected to by society.

In reality, Skull showed up to get away from the horrors of the mafia, paperwork included.

He didn’t have to think about the last guy he killed as he grated his hips to music. He didn’t have to wonder about smuggling illegal goods through customs while he was entertaining a bachelorette party. And he certainly didn’t have to wrap his head around the complex math equation that was Reborn while giving some drunken stranger a lap dance.

For a moment, Skull was in his true element. He was up on a stage with the lights washed over him. He had a crowd to play to and no one telling him how to act.

All he had to do was dance provocatively to some music and he had money raining down on him, sometimes literally.

Norma Jean’s was a drug. One that Skull would happily overdose on if only he had the means. Instead, he was content to soak in the glory and pick up some extra bucks along the way.

If he took a hot young partner home to his apartment away from home, well that was his business alone. It felt good to just let loose and not have to worry about the mafia, or Flames, or curses. Hell, he didn’t even really have to worry about clothes most of the time since he was being paid to take those off.

The only downside came when the lights were flipped off and his vacation ended. Because he would have to go _home_. Back to where he belonged.

And he hated it.

Skull jumped slightly as hands slammed against his desk. He looked up from the paperwork he had been reading through with a scowl. He was met with Reborn glaring at him just inches from his face.

“Forty-six thousand euros,” Reborn growled.

“Excuse me?” Skull asked confused.

“You paid forty-six thousand euros for that gun.” Reborn accused not moving from where he was looming over Skull’s desk.

“There’s about, yea.” Skull agreed. “Collectors, I’m telling you. It’s almost worse than eBay, senpai.”

“Where did you get _forty-six thousand_ euros, Lackey?” Reborn hissed. “And don’t tell me you had that sort of change laying around. We both know how much this job pays.”

“Jack shit, I know.” Skull agreed with a snort. “And what does it matter where I got the money? I’m not _Viper_ but even I know the value of having some money saved up.”

Skull really was _not_ in the mood to explain to Reborn where he got some extra spending cash. Sure, Norma Jean’s didn’t pay that much, but Skull wasn’t a complete idiot. He knew how to make his money work for him, he had to.

He was mafia after all.

“Forty-six thousand euros isn’t some money, _lackey_.” Reborn hissed. “Especially when you can toss it into an auction house.”

“Well, sure.” Skull agreed coolly glaring back at the hitman. “But it’s not like I go frequenting those overpriced scammers. I should have just stolen the piece and have been done with it.”

“Why did you even bother?” Reborn asked making Skull snort as he leaned back.

“Like I said. It was for a rainy day when I didn’t feel like messing with your antics. It certainly seemed to have shut you up when I gave it to you.”

Reborn sneered at him for a moment before scuffing and straightening. “Perhaps I should have Viper audit this branch of the Vongola’s operations. We wouldn’t want some money going missing, would we lackey?”

Skull felt himself bristle at the implication. He had half a mind to spat out just where he got his money. But bit down the comeback to snarl at Reborn.

“Of course not, senpai.” Skull bared his teeth in a mockery of a pleasant smile. “But in the meantime, I have some work to finish, if you mind.”

Reborn narrowed his eyes at Skull for a moment. Then the Sun scuffed and saw himself to the door. It took a few deep breaths before Skull was certain he wasn’t about to snap.

Calmly he picked up the phone on his desk, a plan forming in his mind. It would require a lot of leg work, but Skull was one of the best. It was time to remind Reborn that yes, Skull did learn quite a few things from him over the years.

Adam Johnson closed down the shop for his boss. It had been nearly six months since he moved full time to St. Louis. In that time, he had been busy setting up his new life.

First, he had to cut ties with the Vongola, which was depressingly easy to do. Tsuna didn’t have a strong enough spine to try to keep Skull in his position. Instead, the boy had wilted, and after a few token protests let Skull walk off even without putting in his two weeks.

Skull left the kid the locket he had stored away, to give to Reborn a week after Skull went “missing”.

Second, Skull had spent a few weeks grifting through Europe. He pretty much froze his normal accounts and, outside of one visit to Verde, went completely underground. He talked a fortune out of anyone gullible enough to find themselves in his path, so he had some savings to spend in remaking himself.

Adam Johnson was created on a rainy Sunday after Skull finished the last few trails that would lead on anyone looking for him. The young man didn’t officially exist until Skull hit New York nearly four months after he had left the Vongola. Then it was the process of shoring up his new identity and making the long journey to St. Louis without being obvious about it.

Adam set up shop in a nice industrial loft, making sure he had a big enough aquarium for Oodako. Then he found a job working for a nearby autobody shop in his new neighborhood. His real job, however, was the nights he now spent fully devoted to Norma Jean’s.

It was a nice life actually.

Adam could finally breathe and the feeling of being caged was a thing of the past. He hadn’t heard anything from the mafia and had done his best to steer clear of the local crime families. He did know his new day job specialized in “salvaging” cars for some of the local gangs, but he didn’t look too deeply into it.

Still, almost a full year outside the mafia, Adam’s paranoia bothered him. He knew how persistent the bastards of his old life were. He just hoped they understood his blatant Fuck Off and left him to his own devices.

That hoped died the moment he put the key into the lock of his apartment.

He could feel him inside. The faint, barely noticeable if you weren’t looking, Sun Flames that simmered away. Adam knew those Flames almost as easily as he knew his own.

He gripped the knob of his apartment door with his teeth clenched. Then after a breath, he wrenched the door open with a bit more force than necessary. His current green eyes landing easily on the offending figure lounging on his leather couch.

Reborn looked no different than when Adam last saw him. Still immaculate suit with a yellow dress shirt and a black fedora with a matching yellow band. Yet there was something different about the man’s expression as Reborn’s eyes landed on Adam.

Rather than say anything, Adam moved over to lean against the corner made by the living room wall and the small entrance hall. He crossed his arms and regarded the hitman with a cool glare. Oodako was happily playing with Leon in the corner of the room where the octopus’s tank was located.

“I prefer you in purple.” Reborn finally said after eyeing Adam’s teal hair, straight leg jeans, grey graphic t-shirt, black boots, and a black leather biker jacket.

Adam said nothing, just stared with his best-unimpressed look.

“Skull,” Reborn began with a frown, “I know you didn’t steal from the Vongola.”

Adam refused to say anything as he watched Reborn shift ever so slightly.

“It was out of line to accuse you of doing so,” Reborn added moving to remove his fedora as he stared into Adam’s eyes. “And I’m not here to try to bring you back.”

Adam honestly wasn’t even curious about what brought the hitman to his apartment. He was done with this conversation. He just wanted the man to leave and let Adam get back to his new life.

“The locket was once my mother’s,” Reborn said fidgeting with his fedora. “She was wearing it the night my father shot and killed her with that revolver you gave me.”

There was silence for a long moment as Reborn appeared to be lost in his thoughts. Adam wasn’t in the mood to care but felt a twinge of sympathy. He shoved it aside to focus on trying to think of a way to get the Sun out of his apartment.

“I was out of line referring to your mother as a penniless whore,” Reborn said suddenly and Adam felt himself jerk with sudden rage. “I’m sorry. I know now how out of line that was. Viper managed to dig up her obituary.”

Adam felt his lips curl in a silent snarl.

“I’m sorry.” Reborn repeated and it almost sounded honest. Adam felt himself hate the Sun more for that. “I mean it Skull.”

“I’m not Skull.” Adam finally found himself hissing. “I haven’t been Skull in _months_.”

Reborn actually flinched. The hitman fidgeted with his fedora for another moment. Then he sighed and stood up to retrieve his chameleon from near the fish tank.

Reborn stopped to stand next to Adam in the small space of the entrance hall on his way to the door.

“I owe you.” Reborn finally breathed out then was out the door.

Adam locked up his apartment and took a moment to just breathe. He ran a hand through his teal hair and fought down a snarl. With a look at Oodako, Adam finally decided that he was done and headed back out of his apartment for one of the Steak Houses he liked to eat at.

That night as he danced up on the stage, Adam, aka Johnny, thought he caught a glimpse of yellow hawk-like eyes glowing in the dim lights of the club. He pushed it aside as he let himself relax and unwind. By the time he was heading back home from Norma Jean’s, Adam wondered if that was the end of it.

Until the next morning when he woke to a carefully wrapped present on his breakfast bar. It was topped with a purple bow and the tag read it was from Reborn. Adam rolled his eyes and eyed the expensive watch that he unwrapped with some distaste.

If Adam dropped the watch off at the Salvation Army as a donation, well, he knew the eyes following him would know. Adam was done, Skull was done. And it would take a lot more than a one hundred thirty-eight thousand euro watch for Reborn to even get close to his good graces.

No, the Sun would have to do a lot more groveling before that happened.


End file.
